Hall of Stones

Ticket torn, the fool trades his gray face
The Carny’s grin now his own, firmly in place

The rusted chain swings, the fool begins,
Past a black curtain, to the dimness within

No mirrors to meet him or twisted smiles
No laughing images, disarrayed in the isles

Pale luminescence grows in the fool’s mind
Frowning rows of stones were all he could find

Spinning to flee, his brow smashes fast
Into the cold stone now blocking his path

His panicked eyes blinking, carven the fool sees,
The ghastly glowing runes called “Vanity”

He thrashes for exit, the stones close around
Yet no escape from the monoliths is to be found

Amidst boiling dread, to each stone the fool presses
Thence to see trial, judgement, and message

“Pride”, “Self Loathing”, “Fear”, and “Shame”
“Too late for you now, fool, thus you are named”

In rags of self pity, he slumps to the ground
And whispers his sorries to the silent surround

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